


A Little TLC

by abeautifullie3



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-16
Updated: 2012-07-16
Packaged: 2017-11-10 01:39:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/460807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abeautifullie3/pseuds/abeautifullie3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Injured on a solo hunt, Dean's prepared to take care of himself until a young waitress seems intent on taking him into her care...and her home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little TLC

**Author's Note:**

> **Originally Posted Here:** http://abeautifullie3.livejournal.com/30396.html **On February 19th, 2011**
> 
> **Additional Warnings:** Very mild gore, a wee bit of dirty talk. Pre-series so no spoilers.  
>  **Disclaimer:** The story and Leah, are mine. The boys, and all things canon, not mine. *pouts*
> 
> **Additional Notes:** Beta'd by: My darlin' Lyl.  
>  _Written for the spn_hetexchange on LJ._
> 
>  
> 
> _Leah's cat is named in memory of a dear friend's kitty, Murdock. I hope he's rolling in meadows of catnip._
> 
>  
> 
> _  
> **Comments are very appreciated and highly adored!!! Absolutely ALL con-crit is desired as well!**  
> _

 

 

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

 

  
Dean pulled up outside the small diner next to the motel, the sun not even on the horizon yet. He couldn't afford a room, but at least maybe he could get cleaned up in the diner bathroom - and tend to the gaping wound in his abdomen.  
Dean knew he should have headed home, or at least where home was for that week. Back to the apartment him and his dad were staying in. He knew his dad would be back from his own hunt though, and Dean had too much pride. He couldn't stand the thought of his father frowning down on him in disappointment, questioning how Dean could so badly fuck-up such an easy hunt. And it _had been_ his own fuck-up. Mind still reeling from Sammy running off to college, Dean kept letting his focus stray from the hunt. It was going to get him killed if he didn't knock it off. Nearly had this time.  
No, he couldn't go back. He was going to have to manage and mend on his own.

  
Shoving the first-aid kit into a back-pack, Dean slowly and painfully made his way from the car to the diner. He sucked in his breath hard when he pushed on the door and it didn't open. Having seen the lights on from the road, he hadn't even considered it might not be open yet. Hell, he wasn't even sure what time it was.  
"Come on!" Dean yelled, kicking out at the door only to immediately regret the jarring motion. He doubled over, pressing tightly against his stomach.  
Barely a minute passed before he felt eyes on him.

Leah looked out the glass door. She could tell he was in pain, and common sense should have been telling her to back away, maybe call the sheriff, but most certainly don't interact with him. "Forty-five minutes. Cooks not even here yet."

"I don't want...I just..." Dean looked up, making eye contact with the young brunette on the other side of the door. He realized the sight of him was making her nervous. "Never mind. It's alright." Dean turned to leave. The last thing he needed was some terrified waitress calling the cops on him.

It wasn't because he was stunningly gorgeous, despite his rough condition, it was something deeper...in his eyes, the tone of his voice. Leah was turning the lock before she could even truly consider what she was doing. "No. Don't. Come inside."

Dean looked back over his shoulder. "Are you sure?"

Leah held the door open leaving just enough room for Dean to slide past her. "Bathroom is all the way to the back. Coffee should be ready when you're done."

Feeling as wary of her as she had seemed of him, Dean slipped past her, too desperate to question it. He kept his head ducked down, one hand still pressed to his wound. "Thanks."

"Do you need...can I..." Leah wasn't sure what to say, or if she should even offer to help.

"No. I'm good." Dean hurried off to the bathroom, moving too quickly for his condition, but not wanting to chance being asked any questions.

Nodding, Leah headed behind the counter to start the coffee.

  
  


~*~ ~*~ ~*~

  
  


  
A good ten minutes had gone by, Leah busying herself with the usual morning routine, and the young man still hadn't come back out. She figured he had to be around her age, twenty, maybe a bit older. He was obviously trouble, but whether he was dangerous or not, well, she hoped not to find that out the hard way.  
Another five minutes found her back in the kitchen. She wasn't much of a cook, but she could make him up some eggs and toast, just in case he was hungry.  
He still hadn't emerged when she brought the plate out to set at one of the booths, but she saw it then, the small trail of blood drops leading to the bathroom. Sure she had known he was injured, the way he was hunched over and the bruises on his face made that evident, but this...this was bad. Leah dashed for the mens' room, not even calling out before she threw the door open. She gasped, her hand reflexively coming up to cover her mouth. "Oh my..."

"Shit! Please, don't!" Dean cried out, letting the heavy leather belt fall from where it had been clenched between his teeth.

"Don't? Don't what? Scream? Run for help? What are you even..." Leah let the words trail off, eyes fixed in horror on the shirtless man - his hands bloody and working to, what looked like, stitch up his own wound.

"Any of those, just...look, I've got to...shit!" Dean snarled, and gritted his teeth as he groaned in pain. This wasn't the first time he had ever needed to stitch himself up, but it _was_ the first time he had to do it stone cold sober. He'd tried to give the pain killers some time to work, but it wasn't enough.

"Damn it!" Leah rushed over to the man, not even thinking (yet again) she knelt down in front of him. "What do I do?"

Dean peered down at the young waitress in front of him - on her fucking knees - her legs getting covered in his blood. He wanted to puzzle over her, try to figure her out, but now wasn't the time. "Can you sew?"

Leah swallowed hard. "Yes."

"Hand me my belt, alcohol your hands, then just...do it."

  
She wanted to ask questions, but she didn't. As soon as he bit down into his belt she took up the needle threaded with - fishing line, near as she could tell - sucked in a deep breath, and began to stitch. Her stomach rolled, and Leah forced herself to think about anything besides what she was doing - what she was stitching - or how her knees kept slipping in the red mess on the floor.  
Leah remained silent as she worked quickly, thankful that most of the man's pained moans were dying off. He'd even removed the belt from between his teeth and had begun to breathe easier. After she cut the fishing line upon the last stitch, Leah kept on, not hesitating to grab the antiseptic ointment, bandages, and tape already sitting out on the sink.

"I can..." Dean started.

"It's alright. May as well finish the job." When she'd ripped off a final piece of tape, Leah heard the noises coming from the kitchen. "Shit," she hissed. "That's gotta be Bob."

"Bob?"

"Yeah, the cook. Look," Leah stood up, frantically grabbing for paper towels to clean herself up, "he's an illegal, keeps his nose down and does his job. I'm not too worried about him. But you need to get dressed, get your stuff..."

"An illegal named Bob?" Dean arched his eyebrow as he grabbed his shirt.

Leah paused, and shot the man an annoyed stare. "You're kidding me, right? I've got to get you the hell out of here, and you want to know about Bob?"

Dean hastily shoved his things into his backpack. "You don't _have to_ do anything. I appreciate what you've done, but I can get out of here on my own."

"And you have some place to go? A place to recuperate? Because we both know you need rest." Leah gave the man a moment to answer.

"I...uhh...look damn it, I'll be fine," Dean growled.

"Yeah, that's what I thought." Leah sighed, and nervously adjusted her ponytail. "I have no idea why I'm doing this, but come on. My place is right around the corner."

Dean balked. "I don't...I can't."

"Mister, in a matter of minutes this diner is going to be flooded with locals, truckers, and at least a couple of deputies - if not the sheriff himself - do you want to stop and argue this now?" Leah made to leave the bathroom.

Dean opened his mouth, quickly shut it, and followed her out into the diner.

Leah hurried behind the counter and grabbed her purse, fishing out her keys and removing one from the chain. "Here, this will let you in the side door." Leah handed Dean the key. "Go back out on the road, take the right on the corner, down two blocks. It's the little blue house with yellow shutters and tulip beds out front. You can park in back. Shower, sleep, eat, whatever - just don't let Murdock out."

"Murdock?" Dean asked, no snide tone in his question this time.

"My cat. Now go. I get off before the dinner rush." Leah forced a small smile when the man still hesitated, and waved her hands to shoo him off. She stood frozen, her mind whirling as she watched him walk out and drive off. The same silent question kept coming back to her: what the _hell_ was she doing?

  
  


~*~ ~*~ ~*~

  
  


Leah found herself mildly surprised to see the man's car parked behind her house. Part of her had figured he'd turn tail and run, rather than take her up on her insane offer. Letting herself in, she heard the low murmur of the TV coming from the living room. A small wave of panic rolled over Leah when she'd made it all the way to the kitchen table, and still no Murdock had come running in. Murdock always greeted her at the door when she came home. Leah tossed down her purse and rushed into the living room. There was the injured man, still in his clothes from earlier, passed out with his upper body laid out on the sofa - legs and feet awkwardly dangling over the edge. And there also was Murdock, curled up on his chest, one paw resting protectively on the man's cheek. Leah exhaled a heavy sigh of relief, and smiled at her furry friend. "Yeah, there's just something about him, isn't there?" she whispered, gently lifting the young man's legs to situate them on the sofa.

"Mmm...no." Dean groaned and shifted, an extra dose of pain meds - on top of his exhaustion and injury - had him good and knocked out.

  
"Shhh, you're alright. You're safe, just sleep." Leah grabbed the throw off the back of the sofa and covered him up. She gave Murdock - still firmly in place on their guest - a quick scratch behind the ear, and headed to her room.  
Leah kept to her room, watching TV and reading after she had showered off a day's worth of diner. She checked on the man once when she fed Murdock - who finally abandoned his vigilance with the lure of food - and again after she made herself an evening snack. When she checked him before bed, and he'd still barely stirred, small creases of worry wrinkled her brow. Checking him over his breathing and pulse seemed steady, his fever was mild, and he didn't appear to be in any major discomfort. Leah decided to put any heavy concern on hold until morning, at which point she would, well...she'd figure it out then.

  
  


~*~ ~*~ ~*~

  
  


Dean woke to the smells of coffee and something cinnamon. He didn't particularly want either one, but the aroma was nice - comforting. Body shifting and stretching slowly, he tried to get his bearings through the fog still thick in his head.

"He lives."

Dean startled at the voice, eyes flying open wide and alert, jerking up to a sitting position which he instantly regretted.

"Easy there! I didn't mean to frighten you."

"Didn't...just...did you just get back?" Dean asked, absently rubbing at the nape of his neck - a disoriented sense of time and place making him feel far too vulnerable.

"It's morning. I got back yesterday around five. You were out cold - slept straight through the night. How are you feeling?"

"Confused. And thirsty." Dean looked back into the kitchen and watched the young woman, still in her robe, go to one of the cupboards.

"Water? Or think maybe you're up to some broth, maybe tea?"

"Water's fine." 

Leah brought him a large glass of ice water, and Dean nodded his thanks.

"Maybe you can try some soup later. Or dry toast." Leah sat down on the sofa next to Dean. "How's the wound?"

"Hurts."

Slowly moving her hands towards Dean's shirt, Leah spoke softly, "You should let me take a look, make sure it's not infected."

Swift and steady, Dean grabbed hold of her wrist. "Why are you doing this? Helping me?"

Staring at the hand firmly holding her, Leah shook her head. "I...I honestly don't know."

Easing his grip, but not letting go, Dean raked his eyes over the woman. He could see her worrying at her plump lower lip, despite having turned her head down and away from him. She was pretty, in a soft and earthy sort of way: deep blue eyes set in a creamy complected face - a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her button nose - all framed by softly waving brown hair, casually tucked behind her ears. Despite her gentle appearance, and the current timidness she was expressing, there was an aura of strength around her. "Thank you..." Dean paused expectantly.

Leah promptly raised her head to meet Dean's eyes. "Leah, my name's Leah."

"Leah. Thank you. I'm Dean." Still holding her wrist, Dean brought her hand to his shirt and leaned back into the sofa.

"You're welcome, Dean." Carefully lifting Dean's shirt up, Leah gingerly pulled back the bandage over his wound. "It doesn't look infected, but we should probably change the dressing on it. Do you, umm, want to take a shower first? I set clean towels out in the bathroom."

"If you wouldn't mind. I am feelin' kinda gross." Dean drank down the rest of his water, then - mindful of his movements - got up from the sofa.

"Do you want me to put your clothes in the washer? I've got an extra robe that should fit you."

" 's alright, I've got clothes." Reaching for his duffel by the side of the sofa, Dean suddenly had a mass of purring fur moving in and out between his legs. Dean wasn't particularly fond of cats, but Murdock had seemed to take an instant liking to him, and he had to respect his good taste. "Yeah, morning to you too, furball."

Leah chuckled. "I see you made a new friend. Murdock stayed with you almost the whole night. Only gave up his post for dinner, and finally this morning when I got up."

Dean grunted, and gave the cat a good scratch under the chin before grabbing some clothes and heading down the hall.

  
Curling up on the sofa with Murdock, Leah turned on the stereo while she read. It was her day off, and despite her house guest, she decided to spend it like she normally did - lazing around the house with a good book.  
A solid twenty minutes had passed, when Leah finally heard the bathroom door open and heavy footsteps coming down the hall. Looking up from her book she was startled to find a dripping Dean, towel slung low on his hips, standing next to the sofa. Her jaw involuntarily dropped, and a hot flush crept into her cheeks - it wasn't the only place blood was rushing to.

"Sorry, I...uhh...forgot to grab clean boxers." Dean squatted down to rifle though his duffel, coming up with a pair of boxers along with supplies to re-bandage his wound. "Guess I'll need this too."

Leah swallowed hard, and fought against allowing her mouth to fall back open. Most of the time she was one to push aside her physical desires. She wanted substance, not just sex, and most men - at least around these parts - couldn't deliver that. Of course, Leah wasn't accustomed to having a nearly naked, wet Adonis standing in her living room either. Right now, her body seemed to care very little about what her brain wanted. She squirmed a little in her seat, rubbing her thighs together as she watched Dean turn to walk back down the hall. "Wait!" she called out.

"Yeah?" Dean stopped and looked back.

"Do you want me to dress that for you?" Leah was trying to be helpful, that was all. Her offer had nothing to do with her brain getting on-board with her body, mutually seeing a golden opportunity to get Leah's hands on that firm, gorgeous man - or so she told herself.

Leah watched as Dean looked down at the items in his hand, then back at her, a small smile curling up at the corner of his mouth. "If you want." He shrugged and walked over to sit next to her.

Startling both Dean, and poor Murdock, Leah jumped up off the sofa. "I should wash my hands first. And scissors, need scissors."

Dean blinked hard a few times, then full on smirked at her. "Okay."

Leah hurried to the kitchen, washed her hands, grabbed some scissors, and was promptly back in front of Dean. He was lounging back casually, his legs sinfully sprawled wide - the opening of his towel "v-ing" up his toned thigh and threatening to leave nothing to the imagination. Pulse racing, Leah moved to sit next to Dean, yet suddenly found herself going to her knees between his legs instead.

Seeming a little surprised, Dean arched an eyebrow at her.

"Just, uhh, easier to work in this position, I think."

Dean licked his lips. "Sure. Whatever works for you."

Nodding, and giving Dean a weak smile, Leah set to tending to his wound. She almost missed the barely audible hiss Dean gave when she applied the antibiotic ointment to the area she had stitched the day before. "Still hurts? I'm sorry."

"Nothing I can't handle. Had worse," Dean mumbled the last.

Placing the last piece of tape on the bandage, Leah paused, and allowed a finger to trail over an old, jagged scar, a few inches above and to the right of where she was tending. "I can see that." She wasn't sure what, but there was something about the feel of the imperfect line of skin that sent a shiver through her. Leah couldn't resist continuing to lightly stroke over it. She wondered what it would feel like against her tongue.

Dean let out a soft moan, and reached down to run his fingers through Leah's hair.

Leaning into his touch, Leah looked up, her eyes momentarily locking with Dean's heated hazel, before she bent over and pressed her lips against the marred flesh. Kiss after kiss was placed along the raised and furrowed line, before Leah finally flicked out her tongue and slowly traced the tip of it over the ragged flesh.

Dean moaned his approval and shifted slightly, arching himself up against the now gentle lapping.

With his body pressed tight up against her, Leah could feel the hardening outline of Dean's cock against her chest. A sudden, carnal hunger flared through her, settling low in her belly. In an instant, Leah pulled back, ripped away Dean's towel, and took him into her mouth - every inch of him.

"Oh fuck!" Dean bucked up off the sofa, virtually an automatic reflex to the unexpected and overwhelming pleasure. Immediately, he fell back onto the cushions with a low hiss, his hand coming up to press against his fresh wound.

Leah released Dean's cock - rather awkwardly in her haste. "Shit! I'm so sorry! I didn't...are you alright?"

"No...I mean yes, I'm fine. Just no, don't be sorry, was great. Not expecting it is all. Not like that...that was...damn."

"Maybe this was a bad idea, you're wounded and need..." Leah was cut off - Dean pulling her up to meet his lips, his mouth desperately crashing against hers. It was sloppy, rough - and made Leah's blood boil.

Dean bit into her lower lip, pulling back and tugging at the sensitive flesh. Short of it becoming painful, he released it on a needy, whispered, "Please."

There was no doubt to what he was asking of her. Leah didn't question, merely obliged - though with a far more tentative approach.

Dean moaned at the press of warm, wet lips to the tip of his cock. Leah was being much more hesitant with him, but Dean was fine with that, simply grateful to have her mouth back on him. Those lips, trailing little 'barely there sucking' kisses down his shaft. That tongue, broad and flat, licking him like a fucking ice cream cone from base to tip, before swirling over the sensitive spot on the underside, and finally dipping in to tease at his slit. Her mouth, sinking down to welcome inch after inch - cheeks hallowing out perfectly as she bobbed up and down. Shit, even her teeth! She somehow managed to make him cry out for something that normally made him cringe, applying just the right amount of pressure, as she teasingly raked over his swollen and sensitive dick when she finally drew back.

Leah looked up at him from between his legs, and Dean had to fight not to cum right there. Her hair loose and wild, lips swollen and slick with spit and his pre-cum, eyes heavy with want...she'd gone from 'pretty' to looking like she was made for sin, all from sucking his cock.

"Can we...are you up for..." she asked.

Dean was already nodding before she could finish. "Hell yeah."

Pushing herself off of his knees, Leah swiftly stood in front of Dean, undoing her robe and pulling off her white cotton tank and purple boy shorts. "Don't worry, I'll do all the work."

  
With that, Dean had a lap full of hot, eager, and ready Leah, straddling his hips and brushing her lips against his - all while carefully keeping her body clear of his injury. As Leah moved in to deepen their kiss, Dean pulled back, smirking up at her. He teased her repeatedly 'til she finally gave a frustrated little huff - cuing him to grab her hard by the back of the neck and pull her into him. Still, he surprised her. What promised to be rough came gentle, a soft press of lips and the coaxing prodding of his tongue to gain entrance into her sweet mouth.  
While his tongue explored, so did Dean's hands. He let his fingertips glide up and down her smooth back, over her shoulders and along her sides, finally coming to gently cup and caress her breasts.

Leah groaned into Dean's mouth, the circling of his thumbs against her taught nipples making her press and wiggle against his lap.

Hands on the move again, Dean stroked the legs straddling him before placing a palm firmly on Leah's lower back. The other hand he inched closer and closer down between her thighs, his middle finger making its way to run back and forth over her slit. Feeling the slick of her arousal, Dean thrust up into her - twirling first one, then two fingers in her silky heat.

Breaking their kiss, Leah arched back and gasped. "Uhhh...Dean!"

Dean laughed, voice so thick with want it came out more a growl. "Like that do ya? Want more, baby?"

"Yes-yes. Please, yes!" Leah rolled her hips, trying to get Dean deeper.

Without hesitation, Dean forced a third finger inside Leah, at the same time shifting his thumb to find her clit. "So fucking tight, gonna be like a damn vise on my cock."

Leah threw back her head, shamelessly grinding down on Dean's fingers and thumb, a low keening noise escaping from her open mouth.

"Just like that huh? Gonna cum on my fingers. Yeah." Mindful of his injury, Dean slowly leaned up. Jamming his fingers even deeper into Leah, he whispered into her ear, "Count this round one, 'cus you _will_ cum on my cock too."

"Nnngghhh!" Leah screamed from the slam of pleasure coursing through her body, before Dean was even resting back against the sofa again.

  
Falling forward, Leah's head came to rest on Dean's shoulder. He was surprised at how she still managed to be wary of pressing against his wound.   
After not even a minute of slowly stroking her back, the harsh pants of her breath in his ear, she surprised - no shocked - him again. Before Dean could even register what she was doing, Leah reached down between the two of them, grabbed his achingly hard cock, and positioned it at her opening. She hadn't even uttered a word - her breathing still ragged puffs along his neck - lifted her head, or released her hand from the near painful grip she had on his bicep, yet in one smooth, sure move Leah took his entire length deep into her body.  
Dean had been right, just like a fucking vise. Her inner-walls yielding barely enough to accommodate his cock, not a fraction more - perfect, silky, slick pressure against every inch of his cock. Hands gripping her hips tight, Dean thrust up, desperate for the intense friction he knew awaited him.

Leah finally raised her head to stare down at Dean. "Nah-aah. You just relax. I promise," Leah ground down hard, at the same time clenching him impossibly tighter, "I'll get you there."

Biting into his lower lip Dean gazed up at her, blinking repeatedly he simply nodded.

Hands on his shoulders for leverage, Leah began to move.

Dean knew women could move like she was, he'd been to enough strip clubs, yet it had never occurred to him they could do it while fucking. Not like this. The maddening slight rise and fall as her hips circled, quickly switching to a back and forth sway as she slowly fucked herself up and down on his cock. Digging his fingers into Leah's flesh, Dean threw his head back, moaning and whimpering in an entirely unmanly way he would never admit to - a recurring mantra of, "Oh fuck-oh fuck-oh fuck!" coming between the sounds.

Working Dean's length with a sharp rocking motion, Leah smiled down at Dean, her expression sinful on such a wholesome appearing face. "Feel good, Dean? Huh, you like that?" Leah rocked faster, little panting gasps coming between her words. "Right there. Yeah, right the fuck there...just like...uhhh...almost..."

  
Dean began to sound a low keening. It was too good, too much, and he was a heartbeat away from - injury or not - throwing her across the coffee table and pounding the hell out of her.  
He didn't have to.

Pushing hard against Dean's shoulders, Leah started to bounce up and down frantically, giving Dean the friction his cock desperately needed.

Leah came first - head thrown back, spine arched - Dean's name on her lips. Her rhythmic clenching around Dean's length pushed him over the edge right after, not even air passing his lips - a soundless scream lodged in his throat.

Minutes ticked by as they both came down, Leah having come to rest against Dean's heaving chest. Still ever wary of his wound, Dean had to insistently pull her tight to him before she would fully relax.

Finally breaking the silence, Leah sighed against Dean's neck. "That was..."

"Yeah."

"Nap?"

"Do you? Or are you just..." Dean let the question hang, wondering if Leah was simply being concerned for him.

"Oh no, I could happily crawl back under the covers for awhile," Leah assured him. "But - only if you promise to try to eat something after."

Dean chuckled. "I can agree to that."

"Good." Leah placed a gentle kiss to Dean's neck and carefully climbed off of his lap, holding her hand out to him as she stood.

Dean hesitated. "I...I don't know. Maybe I should just..."

"You don't have to, but if you want to..." Leah smiled warmly. "It's okay, I know what this is. How it will go. Another day, two at the most, you're gonna walk out that door and I'll never see you again. I get that."

Rubbing the back of his neck, Dean watched Leah lower her outstretched hand, though he noted her smile remained. "You don't know how badly I wish that wasn't the truth," he whispered.

"Well then, let's make the most of it while you're here. I think we could both use a little 'no strings attached' TLC."

Raising out his hand, Dean still felt hesitant - he didn't want to hurt her. But she was right, he wanted the affection more than he cared to admit, and if she was willing to risk it...so was he.

  
  


~*~ ~*~ ~*~

  
  


  
Two days later, Dean packed his duffel while Leah was still at work - all the while Murdock anxiously rubbing against his legs. "Yeah, I'll miss you too, stupid cat." Bending over, Dean picked up Murdock and cradled him close, scratching at his scruff and making him purr. "You take good care of her, you hear."  
For the briefest of moments, Dean nuzzled his nose against Mudock's head, then set him down on the sofa.  
Grabbing a notepad and pen off the coffee table, Dean scribbled a quick note:

  
_Thanks for everything_  
 _If you're ever in trouble...need anything_   
_515-555-1750_   
_Dean_

Tossing the pad and pen back on the table, Dean slung his duffel over his shoulder and headed out the door. He sighed heavily, but he didn't look back.

  
  


~*~ ~*~ ~*~


End file.
